by Cat Schield
“If I remember correctly,” Claire continued, “you’re supposed to have lunch with your mother today.”
Linc made a face. “I haven’t forgotten.”
He grabbed his duffel bag and turned to leave the kitchen. Before he took more than two steps, Claire cleared her throat. When he pivoted back around, she was holding up the smoothie. Disgust twisted his handsome features, but he took the drink. She didn’t know what sorts of things he put into his body when he was away from Charleston, but while he was within her care, she made sure he ate nutritious and delectable meals.
“I want to see you taste it before you leave,” she said. “That way I know you won’t throw it out.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” He lifted the glass and took a doubtful sniff.
“Food can be healthy and delicious.”
“In my experience, the two don’t go hand in hand.” He radiated suspicion as he took a small sip. “Hey!” His eyes widened. “This one actually tastes good.”
Her heart did a happy little leap. To cover her reaction to his praise, she gave a satisfied nod. “I added a little agave syrup to satisfy your sweet tooth.”
“You’re the best.”
Warmed by his words, Claire let her gaze linger on his departing figure. Then shaking herself free of his spell, she carried her daughter into the sunroom next to the kitchen, where Honey had stripped off her clothes earlier. The room was filled with books and toys to keep the toddler occupied while Claire worked in the kitchen.
Once Honey was dressed, Claire settled her into a booster chair at the kitchen table. Sunlight spilled across the two-year-old’s light brown hair, awakening the gold highlights and making her hazel eyes twinkle. She had her father’s coloring. Claire’s espresso hair and brown eyes were not at all represented. The only mark she’d made on her daughter was her petite frame. Where Jasper had been six-three and broadly built, Honey was in the twenty-fifth percentile for height and weight.
With Linc off to the gym, the house settled back into its usual state of harmonious calm. It wasn’t that his energy was all that chaotic, but his presence tended to stir up feelings Claire would have preferred not to think about. Plus, during the seven months of baseball season, she’d grown accustomed to having the four-bedroom, five-bathroom home in the prestigious South of Broad—or SOB—neighborhood to herself and Honey.
While the toddler ate bits of a homemade blueberry waffle and slices of banana, Claire made out a grocery list. Linc had decided to host a dinner party on Saturday. It was his first time entertaining formally since his engagement to London had ended. When they were together, the socialite had preferred to host all their events at her mansion. London had always made it clear she doubted Claire’s experience and sophistication to pull off a Charleston-worthy event. On the surface, London had been right to judge Claire this way. Her upbringing in San Francisco was a pretty far cry from the pomp and circumstance that ruled Charleston society.
But Claire cooked like a dream. Everyone who’d tasted her food said so. In fact, it was on the strength of her culinary skills that she’d found her way to filling in for Bettina’s housekeeper during a ladies’ luncheon and eventually taking the job with Linc.
As soon as Honey finished her breakfast, Claire dressed her in an adorable outfit she’d found at a consignment shop and headed to the local gourmet grocery store with her list. The menu required several specialty ingredients and Claire knew she’d find everything she needed there.
While she shopped, she kept Honey occupied by practicing her colors.
“What color is this?” Claire asked, showing her a box of elbow macaroni.
“Green,” Honey crowed and clapped her hands, obviously pleased with herself.
“That’s right. It’s green.” She gave her daughter a smoochy kiss on her cheek, making her giggle.
“Well, isn’t she a bright little girl.”
Claire turned toward the speaker, a stunning woman in her early thirties with bright green eyes and dark blond hair subtly highlighted with gold. She had perfect skin and full lips, and her flawless makeup softened the angles of her face. In a yellow T-shirt and a flowered skirt, Claire felt dowdy and uninteresting beside her.
“Thank you. She picks up things so very quickly,” she said, her wide smile broadcasting her pride. “She’s already counting to fifty and knows her ABCs.”
“My goodness. How old is she?”
“She just turned two last month.”
The woman looked suitably impressed. “You must work with her a great deal.”
“I’m home with her all day, so that really makes a difference.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to the plain gold band on Claire’s left hand. Her first inclination was to cover the betraying lack of sparkle. A part of Claire winced at the impulse. In this part of town, status was everything, and she’d grown tired of how fast she was dismissed. Claire pushed her irritation aside. She was a housekeeper. She shouldn’t be worrying about anyone’s perception of her. Still, it smarted a little every time she glimpsed disdain in someone’s eyes.
But there was nothing but kind interest in the woman’s expression. “I bet you read to her all the time.”
“I do. She loves books.” Claire beamed at Honey, realizing how many memories of her own childhood involved her mother reading to her in the overstuffed armchair in their living room. “Do you have any children?”
“No. I’m not married.” The woman sighed. “As much as I love children, I’m not really sure I’m cut out for motherhood.”
“It’s not always easy.”
The woman acknowledged the remark with a faint smile. “I’m Everly Briggs.”
“Nice to meet you, Everly. I’m Claire Robbins and this is my daughter, Honey.”
“Well, Claire, that’s an interesting collection of ingredients you have there,” she said, letting her gaze travel over the contents of Claire’s shopping cart. “What are you making?”
Smiling, Claire ticked off the menu she’d fretted over for the better part of a week. “Scallops with potato pancakes and caviar sauce. Braised lamb shanks with vegetable puree. And seared bitter greens with roasted beets and spiced pecans. And for dessert, a pomegranate-chocolate cake.”
With each menu item she listed, the woman’s eyes grew wider. “Well, that’s quite impressive. What’s the occasion?”
“My employer is hosting a dinner party.”
“Who might that be? I’ll have to wrangle an invitation. It all sounds delicious.”
Everly fired off the question so blithely that Claire answered before considering whether she should. “Lincoln Thurston.”
The woman’s friendly manner underwent a slight transformation at the mention of Linc’s name. She stopped making polite conversation and became riveted. “Oh.” Her smile took on a keen edge. “Now I really want to come to the party. I heard he’s single these days.”
“Ah...yes.”
Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Claire gathered breath to make a courteous exit, but the stranger latched on to the shopping cart, preventing Claire from going anywhere.
“I’m having some friends over next week and would love to hire you to cater my party.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t. When I said I worked for Linc...” Claire cursed her earlier lapse. For a moment, she’d seen the admiration in the woman’s eyes and it had felt amazing. “I’m not his caterer. I’m his housekeeper.”
“The one who lives-in?” Everly asked, a smooth drawl sugarcoating her avid curiosity.
Claire frowned. “Yes.” What was this woman after?
“Oh.” Everly shaded the word in all sorts of understanding. “Then you’re the woman all Charleston is gossiping about.”
Two
When Linc returned home from the gym, Claire’s car wasn’t in the driveway. She’d f
inalized the menu for his dinner party the night before and was likely shopping for ingredients. He was excited to have her cooking for his friends. Her culinary skills were fantastic. In fact, he was surprised she hadn’t gone to work for a restaurant when she’d first moved to Charleston.
He’d asked her about it once and she’d explained about the long hours and how she’d struggled finding childcare. As he’d listened to her talk about her challenges being a single mom, he appreciated that she wanted to put her daughter’s needs first. Still, he sensed there was more to the story. She seemed to lack confidence in her ability. Which made no sense. She cooked like a dream.
Maybe he’d put too much pressure on her. This was the first time he’d entertained since moving into the Battery Street house. While he and London had been together, she’d insisted on hosting all events. At first, he’d agreed because the house he’d purchased had gone through almost three years of renovations and wasn’t the ideal place to entertain. But once the home had been restored to its former glory, his fiancée had been unable to relinquish control. Linc had begun to see their relationship wasn’t the give-and-take partnership he craved. Too bad he hadn’t realized this before proposing marriage.
Linc set his gym bag on a bar stool and rummaged in the refrigerator for something that would take the edge off his post-workout appetite. Claire always had snacks ready for him. Today was no exception. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he had only an hour before his mother expected him for lunch. He was running late thanks to an impromptu shopping detour he’d made on the way to the gym. It had occurred to him as he was leaving the house that Claire had been working for him for a year. He’d neglected to mark the anniversary last week and decided to rectify the error. A few doors down from the gym was a boutique run by Theresa Owens, a friend of his sister Sawyer’s from high school. He’d popped in to buy a small token.
After polishing off a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich and a bowl of mixed berries, Linc rummaged for a pen to sign the card that would accompany the whimsical asymmetrical silver earrings embellished with turquoise, tourmaline and opal. He’d chosen earrings because aside from her plain wedding band, earrings were the only accessories he’d ever seen Claire wear.
Was it weird that he had bought Claire such a personal gift? He’d considered cash or a gift card but liked the idea of something he’d put thought into. Jewelry was a natural go-to purchase for him. His mother and sister both loved receiving sparkly earrings and necklaces. When he was a kid, there’d been little money available for such things. It made him feel good to be able to spoil the women in his life. And he knew they appreciated it.
Linc left the card and the jewelry box on the breakfast bar where Claire was sure to find them and headed upstairs to shower and change. His mother expected him to arrive at her house promptly at noon, wearing pressed trousers, a crisp shirt and a blazer. Money might have been in short supply while his mother had been young, but her upbringing had been rich in Southern custom.
Linc’s grandmother had clung to memories of wealth and power long after her husband had sold their South of Broad home to a wealthy gentleman from “off”—a man who had no history in the city. Keeping up with private school tuition and social pressures, as well as the increased expense of maintaining the large historic houses, had meant difficult choices for many old Charleston families.
Yet, despite the downturn in his financial circumstances, Linc’s grandfather had retained enough status to keep his family afloat socially. Linc’s mother had never given up her dream of returning her family to its former glory, not even when her husband proved no more financially astute than her father had been, and his embezzlement scheme caused the government to seize their property and bank accounts.
That was why as soon as he signed his first pro contract, Linc had made sure to set his mother up in the sort of Charleston house that would provide Bettina the level of comfort her mother had known growing up. The Mills-Forrest House was located on King Street, South of Broad. Built in 1790, it had been extensively restored and renovated by Knox Smith to provide Bettina with the best blend of historic charm and modern function.
Knox was Linc’s best friend. A real estate developer, he’d worked hard on transforming the city of Charleston to its former glory. During their twenties, the two bachelors had spent a significant amount of time tearing up the town and breaking hearts. They’d been quite the dynamic duo.
Twenty minutes later, as he entered his mother’s parlor, Linc was once again struck by a wave of gratitude that he could do this for her. She was in her element, holding court from a comfortable chintz armchair by the fireplace.
“Good afternoon, Mother. You look splendid today.” Linc crossed the room and bent down to kiss Bettina’s soft cheek.
He lingered a second and inhaled her rose perfume, smiling at the memory of snuggling on her lap when he was young. Even after his sister came along and monopolized their mother’s time, Bettina always made sure she hugged her son before he went to bed.
“Of course I look splendid,” his mother shot back tartly, her eyes twinkling. “I had a facial yesterday that took ten years off.”
She squeezed his hand and then indicated the chair beside the sofa where she sat. On the side table was a silver bell. She picked it up and gave it a vigorous ring. A thin woman with gray-streaked blond hair appeared at the parlor door.
Dolly had been with his mother for ten years and the two women had developed a snarky, passive-aggressive relationship that worked for them. As outwardly hostile as his mother was toward the housekeeper, Linc was certain Bettina secretly enjoyed the ongoing battle. In turn, Dolly wasn’t without a spine and often gave as good as she got. Linc didn’t understand why she stayed. Dolly could have found less stressful employment in a dozen homes.
“Linc needs a martini,” his mother proclaimed.
“No, thank you. Just some sparkling water with a lime.” He bit down on the admonition that it was too early to start drinking, knowing his mother would simply ignore him.
“I’ll have a bourbon with ice. Make sure you use the good stuff.” Before Dolly was out of earshot, Bettina turned to Linc. “She’s been giving me some swill she claims is from Grady’s distillery. As if I haven’t been drinking bourbon all my life and wouldn’t know the difference.”
Grady was Linc’s cousin on his mother’s side. Now that bourbon had been “rediscovered” by the masses, the trend seemed to be everyone with a little pocket change slapping a label on a barrel and calling it craft bourbon. Linc considered most of it swill. However, after attending one of Grady’s tasting parties, Linc had been impressed enough to back his cousin’s venture. So far, Grady hadn’t gone bankrupt, so Linc figured his cousin must be doing something right.
“Tell me about your dinner party tomorrow night,” Bettina said, turning her bright blue eyes on Linc. “Who all is invited?”
“The usual suspects. Knox, Sawyer, Austin, Roy, Grady and a few others. There will be twelve of us altogether.”
His mother reeled back in dismay. “Did you invite any girls besides your sister?” Bettina had been unhappy when he started dating London and positively mortified when they got engaged. This time around he knew she intended to steer him toward a more appropriate choice, preferably a young woman whose Charlestonian roots went as deep as his own.
“She’s promised to bring six friends so it’ll be even numbers.”
His mother had a knack for radiating displeasure without moving any of her facial muscles. “You can’t let your love life be decided by your sister’s random friends.”
“I also can’t let my love life be decided by my mother’s social aspirations for me.” He smiled to take any sting out of the words.
Bettina waved her hand as if she was shooing away a fly. “You have a duty to this family to marry well and have children who will carry on the Thurston name.”
Seriously
, Mother?
There was a time, after Linc’s father was caught embezzling and went to jail for five years, that Bettina had cursed the Thurston name. Linc wisely chose not to point this out to her.
“If you don’t ease up on my search parameters,” Linc muttered, “I’m going to die childless and alone.” He made it sound as if he was kidding, but in truth, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to fall in love with the right woman.
Look at the mistake he’d made with London. He still wasn’t clear if what he had felt for her was love, or if she’d simply won him over with her beauty, determined personality and competitive spirit.
They’d met when he was in his late twenties and starting to lose interest in the never-ending merry-go-round of women in and out of his life. He’d spotted her at a charity event she’d organized and been drawn to her beauty. That she’d also been blessed with brains and ambition had struck the right chord with him, and within a month, they’d become exclusive.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his mother said. “I can name a dozen women who would be perfect for you. In fact, as soon as you leave, I’m going to make a list and invite them to a party here in a couple weeks. That girl of yours is a dream...”
While his mother prattled on, Linc grappled with his discomfort over being the main event at one of Bettina’s gatherings. Part of him wanted to make his mother happy after everything she’d endured in her life, but he wasn’t about to surrender his freedom unless the woman was nothing short of spectacular.
“...Claire?”
His heart gave a little jump as his mother mentioned the young widow. “What about Claire?” Had she guessed his ever-increasing preoccupation with the woman who worked for him?
“Can I borrow her to cater the party?”
His mother’s request reminded Linc that his attraction to Claire needed to end. In any other town they could make it work, but in Charleston, where his mother was so entrenched in her family history, a Thurston and an outsider could never happen. Especially when that outsider was also his housekeeper.